Mr. Thompson (Alternate Ending... sort of)

"Just promise me you'll give him a choice," Mr. Thompson said.

Captain Shield put his arm on Mr. Thompson's shoulder and looked his former comrade in the eyes. With a twitch, he shoved Mr. Thompson to his knees. As Mr. Thompson's eyes grew wide, so did Captain Shield's smile. "That is not something I can do. If I may speak frankly, your family has a poor history of making good choices. You left The League out of pure selfishness and when the time was right for your return you were too broken to be any use. Your son has been neglecting his training and, thus, I will be taking him untrained, and unskilled. Your daughter turned down The League's offer entirely to live just like the mundane people we protect everyday. I even had to take some extraordinary, though somewhat illicit, means when Nancy blatantly refused to leave after I explained just how dangerous it was to get involved with a superhero."




Originally, I never planned for Mr. Thompson to find the closure he did at the end of this story. Instead, before that happened, he was supposed to figure out that Captain Shield was actually the one who either killed his wife or had his wife killed by leaking The Count's secret identity to his enemies. I still held onto the idea, thinking that I could place it at the end of this story: Mr. Thompson would drink the contents of the vial but it would only give him his healing abilities and slightly-above-human strength which wouldn't be enough to fight Captain Shield; later Kyle would walk in and, using his "terrible healing abilities" rip the blood from Captain Shield's body. As great as it was when I visualized it, I stopped for two reasons. 1) It feels weird to place it in now that I've finished the story and actually like how it ends. 2) When I tried to write it, it reminded me too much of the bloodbending from "Avatar" and "Legend of Korra" and Accelerator's ability from "To Aru Majutsu no Index" and so I got bored and just decided not to (but since I already wrote the lead in into it, I decided to put it here anyway).

I guess since this is now done I'll try to immediately start on something else so it doesn't take me another 6 months to start writing again

Mr. Thompson (part 4)

            The two men stood firm, neither making any move which would set off something the world hadn’t known since The League stripped Mr. Thompson of his powers.

            “What the hell do you think you’re doing, old man!” Kyle was face to face with Mr. Thompson now, his eyes looking square into his eyes and Mr. Thompson couldn’t remember when his son had grown so tall.

            “What am I doing? I’m trying to pro–”

            “No you’re not!” Kyle’s red, tear-filled eyes consumed Mr. Thompson’s entire vision as his son spoke. “I’ve got a gift I need to learn to use and they can teach me because you won’t. You’re only obsessed with mom’s death while there’s still a whole world out there that needs people like us.”

            Mr. Thompson could see Kyle trying to grasp at the next words but with the pause Kyle was extinguished. Kyle was never one to maintain his fire for a long period of time but when his flame got lit it erupted. As quick as his outburst appeared, it was gone – as was Kyle. Suddenly, Mr. Thompson realized he was standing in a room with only Captain Shield and the echo of a front door slamming shut.

            Mr. Thompson looked around the room and finally saw the truth – the newspaper clippings taped to the wall with certain words circled in red and pieces of string connecting certain ones – all trying to tie together who killed his wife. His eyes spun around the room until he found what he was looking for.

            Just one family photo still uncovered and untouched by his obsession. Two small children, Katy and Kyle, holding their mother’s hands at the park. He couldn’t remember how old they were, or when the picture was taken. He couldn’t remember if all the pictures he covered were the same – just a mother and her two children – or how many pictures he covered up.

            “He’s not mine to give away,” Mr. Thompson said to Captain Shield. “Just promise me you’ll give him a choice.” He turned his back and walked toward the couch, taking Nancy’s cuckoo clock off the wall.

Mr. Thompson (part 3)

            Kyle, slightly embarrassed, took his dad’s arm and led him back to his chair and took a seat on the chair next to him. He looked at the two men and paused. “First off, why do you keep calling him ‘Count’?”

            Captain Shield looked at the boy and laughed. “I see, so your father never told you? It was his name when he was in The League. Kind of like Count Dracula since he could do all sorts of things with blood, usually like rapid healing which came in handy especially with all the stuff he put his otherwise normal body through. So, instead of bullets bouncing off of him, like they do to me, he would quickly heal those same gunshot wounds and never miss a step.” Captain Shield paused as he saw the boy look wide-eyed at Mr. Thompson. “Of course, there were even times when he would heal other members of The League, even myself from time to time. If you like, you may even be able to inherit his name as long as your father apro –”

            “Not going to happen,” said Mr. Thompson with a laugh. “Kyle has never been much of a healer.” He told Captain Shield about how Kyle never perfected the rapid healing technique he tried to teach him, and how he was even worse at using it on others. “Hell, he left bigger scars than the tiny cuts I had him try to heal,” he said as he pointed to several long markings on his arm. The room almost glowed red from the embarrassment shining from Kyle’s face as a small puddle of sweat and tears mixed into the carpet flooring.

            “Oh, come now Count. He can’t be that bad.” Captain Shield turned to Kyle. “I’ll bet you’ve had moments you’re proud of, right? Which is actually a lot better than some of the other kids we take in.”

            Kyle smiled a little at Captain Shield’s words and nodded his head slightly. Captain Shield knew now was the time to ensure Kyle would join. “And if you make it past the training to become a full member of The League, you’ll be in a perfect position to do the one thing that I know will make your father proud.” Captain Shield saw Kyle’s face light up and Mr. Thompson’s head drop, his face buried in his hands.

            Mr. Thompson guessed that Captain Shield would bring that up to lure Kyle in – and here it was: he told Kyle that he could begin his own investigation into who killed his mother; he told him they already had possible suspects but little manpower to keep cold cases going; he told him how Nancy, his mother, was killed shortly after his father had officially retired and that it was probably some supervillain with a score to settle with The Count. “Though I do recommend you take a more level-headed approach than your father did. No need to go around killing every supervillain you can get your hands on or you could find yoursel–”

            The smash of a breaking bottle and a shower of glass and whiskey stopped Captain Shield midsentence. It wasn’t the bottle breaking on his face, but rather the action of it – that someone would actually throw a bottle at him – which caught him by surprise. He and Kyle both looked with shock at Mr. Thompson, who shouted, “Don’t you say one more word about her! This is my revenge, not his.”

            Captain Shield was not a man to be disrespected, even when he was uninvited in another man’s house. He’d done too much to let even the slightest insult go unnoticed, especially when all he was trying to do was extend an offering. He stood from the couch and the floor under him sagged slightly under his power.

            Mr. Thompson knew full well the extent of Captain Shield’s abilities. He’d witnessed them first hand more times than he could count and been on the receiving end more times than he cared to remember. Even so, there was no way he’d let this man take his son. He fingered at the tiny flask in his pocket, hoping that if it came to it, his abilities would give Kyle enough time to come to his senses and run.

Mr. Thompson (part 2)

            The door started to open. Mr. Thompson rushed forward to slam it back shut. “You can’t have him.” He braced his back against the door and pushed with his legs, trying his best to bar the entryway.

            How stupid. Mr. Thompson felt the door move. “You know this is just a waste of time, don’t you, Count.” Mr. Thomson continued to push, but his feet were sliding across the carpeting now. He heard the chain on the door snap off and fall to the floor, taking small pieces of the wall with it. Mr. Thompson tumbled forward, landing on his back and looking up at the door. It swung open and in its frame stood one of the strongest men on the planet, the one finger he used to push open the door still raised.

            Captain Shield looked down at Mr. Thompson lying on the ground. “If Kyle isn’t home, I still think it best if I waited inside.” He stepped over Mr. Thompson and headed toward the living room. “I did try to avoid breaking your door too much.”

            Mr. Thompson sighed. There really was nothing I could do, he thought as he took a swig from the bottle he managed to avoid spilling.

            When Mr. Thompson managed to get back to the living room, he found Captain Shield sitting on his couch in full costume, the suit he wore now torn in half and lying on the floor. It was the same tight fitting spandex, boots, and cape he always wore, except the colors were now black and gold instead of blue and silver. “Why are you wearing that?” Mr. Thompson said as he took a seat on the chair opposite, with the coffee table separating the two of them.

            Captain Shield smiled and brushed his hair back. “It wouldn’t be polite to introduce myself as Captain Shield without looking like Captain Shield, would it Count?”

            As the two of them waited in the living room for Kyle to come home, Captain Shield and Mr. Thompson reminisced about the days when they were both in The League. Well, Captain Shield talked while Mr. Thompson finished his bottle and started on another.

            “You know,” Captain Shield said, trying to change the subject, “we’ve also made significant improvements in training new recruits as well as providing them with the best gear for when they become full members.”

            Mr. Thompson finished his bottle and placed it on the coffee table. “Unless you want to tell me that you finally found out who killed my wife, stop talking and leave.”

            Captain Shield laughed. “You know full well that there’s nothing you could do to make me leave. I’m staying until I get a chance to talk to Kyle. Especially since we both know you’re trying to keep him from getting anywhere close to The League.”

            Mr. Thompson glared at the superhero and took another swig from a bottle he pulled from the cabinet next to the couch. Captain Shield was right after all – even when he had all his abilities, they didn’t match up to Captain Shield’s.

            “I’m home,” Mr. Thompson heard Kyle call as he entered the house, but the only thing he wished was that his son would turn around and go right back out like he usually did. “And no, I didn’t go to the recruiting station.” His voice was getting louder now as he came down the hallway. “I actually decided to sleep on it like you asked –”

            Kyle paused, mouth agape as he stared at the superhero sitting in his living room. Mr. Thompson looked at his son, then to Captain Shield, and then back to his son. “Kyle, why don’t you take a seat and tell Captain Shield what I told you this morning.”

            But Kyle didn’t move. Instead he continued to stand and stare at one of the strongest men in the world. Captain Shield smiled and stood. “It’s nice to meet you, Kyle,” he said as he shook the boy’s hand. “As you can see, I am Captain Shield and I’m here to offer you membership into The League.”

            Kyle and Captain Shield sat on the couch and he explained to Kyle the trial process for membership, the training he would endure to achieve his full potential, and even setting him up with a room in The League’s headquarters itself. “After all, it’s you youngsters that will be leading The League in the future.”

            Mr. Thompson stood and grabbed Captain Shield by the collar, trying to lift him off the couch and to the door. “Okay, you’ve said your piece. Time to leave.” He pulled as hard as he could but still Captain Shield never budged. Mr. Thompson continued to pull, but he knew that he would only stand when he wanted to.

            “Hold on, Count. We still haven’t heard if the boy’s accepted my offer. Why don’t we see what he has to say?”

Mr. Thompson (part 1)

            Mr. Thompson drank the last of the whiskey and reached into the cabinet to grab another bottle. He returned to the couch just as Nancy’s old cuckoo clock reminded him it was only 7 o’clock. He tossed the cap at the bird and knocked it to the floor. I used to tell her everyday how much I hated that damn clock and still I’ve yet to throw it out.

            “Real nice, dad,” said Kyle as he picked up the bird and put it back on the clock. He also tossed the cap into the trash can. “Looks like you’re starting earlier than usual today.”

            Mr. Thompson took a swig from the bottle. “Actually, that first bottle was only half full so it shouldn’t really count.” And he was right since his blood could still fight off poisons almost as fast as he could drink them in. The one ability The League left me, or just forgot to take, when they retired me, he thought. He started reaching around the couch for the TV remote. “By the way, what are you doing tonight? I thought we could spend some time together since it’s your birthday and all.”

            Kyle crossed his arms and started at his father. If his mouth hadn’t been slightly open, Mr. Thompson might’ve thought he was angry instead of just shocked at what is father was asking. Even he knew just how little time he’d been spending with his family recently.

            “I did forget to buy you a present, but I did remember that today was your birthday.” Mr. Thompson said, putting the bottle on the coffee table. With the bottle finally out of his grasp, he found the remote and immediately fumbled it onto the floor. He strained forward, never leaving the seat as he stretched his arm for the remote. He heard a sigh and the sound of footsteps. Another hand grasped the remote and lifted it into the air. He started to lean back. But since I’m here, he thought, and grabbed the whiskey he’d just put on the coffee table. Kyle was already sitting on the couch next to him, the remote in his hand.

            “Dad.” Kyle paused, staring at the remote in his hand. Mr. Thompson smiled a bit. You were never really good with words or tact.  He took another swig from the bottle before Kyle started talking again. “Dad,” he said, “I know you’re trying and maybe you’re actually ready to be a part of our family again, but you need to give Katy and me some time to get used to having you around. Katy still doesn’t want you to have anything to do with your own grandkids, but I think eventually she’ll come around.” Kyle extended the remote. “Dad, are you ever going to tell me what happened?”

            Mr. Thompson opened his mouth to speak, staring his son in the eyes. He wanted to know about how his mom died. And if he found out that he’d want to know what happened while Mr. Thompson was locked up by The League in the same prison he helped to put supervillains in. He’d want to know how they took his powers from him and why Mr. Thompson never trained him when his similar powers began to manifest themselves.

            “You’re planning to apply at The League today?” Mr. Thompson said instead. And he was right, seeing the shock in his son’s eyes. He turned 18 today and like other super-powered kids of age, he wanted to make a name for himself with The League. “I don’t want you to. When you get home from school, listen to what I have to say and decide tomorrow morning if it’s really something you want to do.”

Mr. Thompson took the remote and turned on the TV to one of the many twenty-four hour news stations, looking for any story about recent supervillain activity. He could feel Kyle’s stare bearing down on him, but he continued to look at the screen as he did everyday for nearly a decade. Looking and searching for anyone with any ability which might match the power used to murder Nancy. He could hear Kyle start to protest, but instead he stood up and walked out the door, his only parting words that he would be home for dinner.

            The clock struck two and Mr. Thompson’s bottle hit the floor. He grabbed a t-shirt off the couch and attempted to soak up the spilled whiskey, wondering if it would be possible to squeeze the drink back into the bottle. Or at least into my mouth.

            He paused. Something was in the air, not a smell or sound, but a presence. He dropped the shirt and stood to face the door. The feeling was so overwhelming now he almost forgot to grab the half-empty bottle off the ground. Almost. He took a quick swig to steady his hands.

            Footsteps. Though he didn’t hear the front gate open, those were definitely footsteps he heard coming up his front steps and onto the porch. Someone, or possibly something, was at his front door. He felt into his pocket for the small, silver flask. It was still there, its contents untouched and still potent enough to revive his powers for hopefully a good five minutes. Three quick raps on the door followed by a loud thud let Mr. Thompson know he wouldn’t need the flask. Yet. He took another swig. After all, it wasn’t a someone or even a something at the door. It was more akin to a god.

            With the chain still on the door, he opened it just enough to get a decent view of the man outside. He wore glasses, as is traditional, with the lenses removed. His suit was ill-fitting and he wore it uncomfortably, as if he was unaccustomed to wearing anything that didn’t cling to his muscles along with its matching cape. The colors would change every so often but his need for justice and order never would.

            “What do you want, Captain?”

            The man at the door smiled. “Still the same aren’t you, Count.” He leaned to get a better view through the partially open door. “Why can’t I just come by to catch up with an old comrade?”

            “It’s been ten years since anyone from The League came to see me and we didn’t exactly part on good terms.” He slammed the door. “And don’t call me that. I’m not The Count anymore.”

            “Okay, you caught me. I’m here to talk to Kyle. I hear he turns 18 today.”

            Mr. Thompson almost dropped his bottle again. He had demanded that Kyle stay away from the recruiting center but he didn’t think that The League would send someone to his house, much less Captain Shield, to persuade his son.